Comfort 101
by Blissaster
Summary: Damian was learning how to comfort people or, to be exact, how to comfort Richard.


**Thanks to:** As always, **BookJunkie** , who somehow could find the time to beta my story - thus making it much better - in her busy life. Thanks, sugar! ;)

* * *

It was Saturday. There was nothing special about that. Except today Richard said he would come to Gotham.

And Damian was _not_ excited. Not at all.

But if he was, it would just because he would have a new sparring partner, someone other than Father to challenge him. It would certainly not be because he missed Richard. What an absurd notion that was.

But the moment Richard entered the manor Damian knew there was something wrong. Richard was smiling, as always, but there was something strange about his smile. It was too… perfect. Too practiced. And when he talked with Father, he was too polite, his demeanor subdued. While Damian would normally have taken these changes as a blessing (he still did not know how Richard survived in this world being as annoyingly cheerful as he was), it was _wrong_ on so many levels.

Damian vowed he would get to the bottom of it.

It took him all day, but Damian was finally able to corner Richard in the library. Arms crossed, he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Something's bothering you." It was a statement rather than a question.

Richard blinked, caught off guard. "I… What makes you think I have a problem?" he asked instead of giving a proper answer.

Damian rolled his eyes. "You look miserable," he replied, with the word _obviously_ left to hang in the air between them.

This seemed to surprise Richard even more. "Do I?"

Damian had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes again. "Yes," he nodded curtly.

"I…" Richard seemed to be at a loss for words.

"And don't even try to say it's nothing," Damian said before Richard could. He did not want to start a debate about whether or not Richard was fine when the man clearly was not.

Richard glared balefully down at Damian for a long time. "It's nothing I can't handle," he said in the end, running a hand through his hair before flashing a smile. "I'll be fine."

Seeing that stupid smile on his face made Damian scowl. It might have been enough to fool everyone else – excluding, perhaps, Pennyworth and Father – but not him. Richard could act like he was insanely happy all the time but Damian knew better. He knew that sometimes Richard's smiles were not so genuine, that there were times when those bright blue eyes clouded over with something dark. He knew perfectly well what the man was capable of doing if push came to shove. And it was frightening.

Not that he would ever admit that.

"Which means you're not, now," Damian pointed out matter-of-factly. He watched Richard cringe, but say nothing. "Tell me."

"I don't think you should—"

"That wasn't a request."

Richard sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "My great grandfather was — _is_ a Talon. And if Bruce hadn't have adopted me and made me Robin, I would've been one too," he said quietly.

Damian waited for Richard to continue. Surely, there was something more to it. When the man did not say anything further, he frowned. "That's all?"

"I told you it was nothing." Richard groaned, rolling his eyes.

"But it bothers you," Damian pointed out, though he still did not understand _why_.

Richard sighed. Again. He seemed to be doing that a lot around Damian lately. But he did not try to get away from him. Richard rubbed his face warily. "I could've been a Talon, Dami. _Of course_ it bothers me."

Damian frowned. "Why?"

"Because the idea that I might have become a mindless killing machine might be kind of scary?" Richard asked back sarcastically.

Damian's frown deepened. "But you are not," he stated.

"But what if I…"

Damian stopped him with a shake of his head. It was clear that Richard did not see things as he did. "It wouldn't matter," he said firmly, hoping that would be enough to make Richard drop the matter. It _was_ a stupid topic of conversation.

"How could it not?" Richard asked with a frown.

It was obvious that, no matter what Damian said, Richard would keep doubting himself with all of these what-if scenarios. For one so smart, Richard could be pretty stupid sometimes. That was why he needed Damian. "My grandfather's a renowned terrorist and I was raised to be his heir," he said instead. "Does this mean you're afraid of me? Disgusted?" He forced himself to look Richard in the eye. "Do you hate me?"

"No!" the vehemence in Richard's answer took Damian by surprise. "Why should I be scared of you? You're good at what you do, I'll admit it, but you're not good enough to get me." Richard flashed him a cocky smile to show that he was being playful.

Damian glared at the slight against his skills but said nothing. Not only because he knew Richard had more to say, but because, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself, he knew it was true.

"And why would I be disgusted by you? It's not like you chose Talia as your mother or that creepy old man to be your grandpa!" Damian was still weighing the pros and cons of defending his grandfather's honor – whatever honor the man had – when Richard continued, "And I could _never_ hate you! You're Bruce's son. Which makes you my brother and—"

"I get it," Damian said forcefully, cutting Richard's rant short. The man could ramble for hours if no one stopped him. "So, it doesn't matter to you that—"

"Not at all." Richard shook his head emphatically.

Damian suppressed his urge to snap at him for cutting him off mid-sentence. "Then why makes you think that we – that _I_ – would care if you were a Talon? Which, in case you haven't noticed, you are not?"

"It's _different_ ," bristled Richard, defensively.

"How?"

The man was silent for a while before he settled on, "It just is."

Damian gritted his teeth. He was using up every scrap of patience he had dealing with Richard without resorting to beating him black and blue. This was unacceptable. If Father knew how close he was coming to the edge, he would be grounded for a long, long, _long_ time. Then there was Pennyworth. The man was a closeted sadist. He could come up with the most cruel and unusual punishments… So, instead of beating sense into Richard's thick skull, Damian took a deep breath to calm himself.

"As I have stated numerous times, you are **NOT** a Talon," Damian started. He glared hard at Richard when he opened his mouth to argue. "You were not and you will never be. That is the end of the problem."

The vehemence in Damian's words was enough to shock Richard into silence, but it did not last long. "What makes you think I won't—"

"Because you're too idiotic to be an assassin!" Damian cried out, his patience all but run through.

"But—"

Sometimes Damian wondered if Richard was actually Father's biological son. He had certainly inherited his stubbornness. "And I won't let them touch you!" he burst out, hands flailing in frustration. How could Richard _not_ **see**? "I don't care if it's that Slade bastard that wants to make you his apprentice or the Court of fucking Owls that wants you to be its Talon, I'll skin them all alive if they get anywhere near you!"

Stunned silence.

To say that Damian had had an unusual upbringing was an understatement, Damian knew that his thinking was somewhat… unorthodox. All this time, he had tried to keep this side of him hidden so that Father would let him stand by him, be his Robin. But now, he had lost control and let Richard see how truly twisted he was. He was almost afraid to see Richard's face, of what he would find there – fear, disgust, or (worse) _pity_. But there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He looked up, only to find…

The look on Richard's face was one of … surprise, for lack of better word. Then understanding seemed to fully sink in and he was smiling from ear-to-ear.

Damian felt afraid (not that he would admit it) for another reason altogether now. He knew that look. It was usually followed by a very sappy moment, _even_ by Richard's standards. "Don't you dare," he hissed, putting both hands up as he took a step back, ready to block if Richard tried to hug him. Damian shuddered at the mere thought. The psychopaths of Gotham he could handle with relative ease, but if his self-proclaimed brother went (somehow even _more_ ) sentimental on him, he would certainly need back up! Where was Father when he needed him?!

"Aw," Richard cooed, putting his hand dramatically on his chest, overtop of where his heart should be. "My baby loves me!"

Damian's face flushed crimson. "I do not!" he denied, horrified by Richard's accusation. "Take that back!"

"Never!"

Damian lunged at Richard. He succeeded in tackling the man down, Richard not even attempting to dodge the attack. If anything, he seemed to position himself so he could cushion Damian's fall, cementing Damian's belief that he was too nice to be an assassin.

"You better not go telling that to anyone, Grayson," Damian growled, sitting on the man's chest with his hands clutching the collar of Richard's shirt and his eyes glaring down at him. His glare would be enough to make lesser men cry.

"I won't tell anyone, Scout's Honor," Richard promised. He even made the appropriate hand gesture.

"As if I'd believe you," Damian snorted. "You're a Bat. And everyone knows we fight dirty."

"I prefer the term effective, if you don't mind," Richard said mildly, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Whatever, as long as you don't spread false rumors." As he stood up, Damian brushed imaginary dust off his pants.

"But it's not 'false,'" Richard pointed out.

Damian's only answer was a withering glare that made Richard grin.

"I'll take it to my grave," he said mock-seriously as he also rose to his feet. Then his face softened and Damian _knew_ he would be sprouting something sappy. "Thanks, little D."

"I didn't do anything, I merely stated facts," Damian pointed out, looking away in the hope that Richard would not see the pink he was certain had colored his cheeks. "Facts that you are too stupid to notice yourself," he added.

"Thanks anyway." Richard ruffled Damian's hair affectionately before playfully adding, "Though, just so you know, I can take care of myself just fine."

As always, Damian swatted Richard's hand away and glared up at him, though it lacked the usual heat. "So can I, but it doesn't stop you from being a mother hen," he shot back.

Richard was graceful enough to let the argument go. He merely shook his head, his smile half-fond and half-exasperated. "Oh, and Damian, about that thing you said you'll do…"

Damian stiffened. "What of it?" he asked, shoulders hunched around his neck.

He got a reassuring smile. "You don't have to do that."

"I know," Damian said, relaxing ever so slightly. _But I will anyway,_ he added to himself.

Richard's smirked, as if he knew exactly what Damian was thinking. Then he grinned, in a sharp and predatory way, and said, "I can skin them myself." With that, he walked out of the library and left a speechless Damian behind.

Damian shook his head, as if to dispel whatever trance had taken hold of him. He smiled ruefully. Even after all this time, Richard could still take him completely by surprise.

* * *

Damian did not like letting Richard have the last word, so when he was about to head back to whatever hole he lived in now, Damian made the point of telling him, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you are what you are."

Richard stared at him blankly before a wide smile split his face. "So am I, Baby Bird."

"I'd hate it if I had to kill you."

"And I'd hate it if I couldn't hug you," was Richard's reply.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Damian was so startled that he almost threw the knife he kept tucked away in his boot at his father. He glared at the man who raised his eyebrows, looking totally unrepentant.

Pennyworth insisted that costumes had to stay in the Cave, but why did that matter if Father was _always_ lurking in the shadows like the freaking Batman anyway?

"It's nothing!" Damian said at the same time Richard said, in sing-song voice, "Dami loves me!"

Damian turned his glare towards Richard, who looked innocently back at him. From the corner of his eye, Damian saw that Father was looking at them both, shaking his head in something like amusement.

"Tell me something I don't already know," Father said blandly.

Damian's head snapped back to him, eyes wide with disbelief. Then they narrowed once again. "Father, are you sure Grayson is not your real son?" he asked in a deadpan voice.

"Just because we're not related by blood doesn't mean he's not my real son, Damian," Bruce said, "Or your real brother."

Damian crossed his arms and looked away, harrumphing. "Brother?" he snorted derisively, "More like mother," he said in a mocking sneer. He thought that if he called Richard mother, a role reserved for women, it would embarrass him. He was wrong. He had forgotten that the man's skin was as thick as his skull; _very_.

"Does this mean I have your permission to date your father?" Richard asked sweetly, bright blue eyes wide with mischief.

"You get— you want to— you're— what!?" Damian spluttered, his eyes flickering between the two men before him. They both had straight faces as Richard moved closer to Father and put his head on his broad shoulder.

Then Richard burst out laughing and Damian knew that he had fallen for one of Dick's many, _many_ ,idiotic practical jokes. Damian narrowed his eyes but Richard was too busy laughing to notice while Father, the traitor that he was, smirked at him.

"You are an imbecile," Damian grumbled. He was NOT pouting. If Richard said he was, then the man was lying.

"Aw, I love you too, Little D," Richard cooed, before moving in for a hug.

Damian struggled to break free but Richard refused to let go. He sighed, knowing there was no way he could get away without hurting Richard. He looked up at Father, whose eyebrows were raised, his lips tugged up ever-so-slightly. Damian glared at Father, daring him to say anything.

Father said nothing, though his oh-so-smug smirk still managed to grate on Damian's nerves.

Five minutes passed…

"Richard, it's been five minutes."

"I know," was all Richard said in reply.

"Let go," Damian growled.

"But you're so comfy," Richard whined.

Damian looked down on the man he, _secretly_ , called brother,horrified to see him _snuggle_ into him. "If you don't let go, I'll stab you," Damian said in his most menacing voice.

But Richard did not even budge. "You won't," he said, sounding quite sure of himself.

Damian was tempted to stab Richard just to prove him wrong. But Father was still there, watching them with his arms crossed across his chest and his grin growing wider. "Father." He turned to look at him, his voice calm, though his hand was twitching, itching to get to his knife. "Can I stab him?" For good measure, he added, "please."

Father chuckled. "You know how much Alfred hates bloodstains."

"Damn."

"Language," Richard chided.

 **End.**

* * *

 **A/N:** So, just to be clear, this story is purely platonic. There is no Bruce/Dick whatsoever. Not because I mind that pairing, but because personally, I prefer platonic love between them - or any other members of the Bat Family.

I don't really like the ending. I think it's kind of... anti-climatic. But since my beta said it's good enough - and it I don't post it as soon as I can I'll let it rot for years to come - so I decided to post it now.

If you wonder why I (even more) rarely post stories nowadays, that's because I'm kind of busy with my job. But if you have ideas you want me to write or just to talk, don't hesitate to PM me. Well, as long as you don't mind me taking my sweet time writing the stories. ;)

 **Standard disclaimer applied.**


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